


a fever you can't sweat out

by n7shoujo



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dominant!Newt and lovin it™, Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Sexual Content, Step by step consent, Teasing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering, you get the gist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:09:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5548544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n7shoujo/pseuds/n7shoujo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which things get heated and you want newt to touch you and the feeling is mutual but unresolved sexual tension is a bitch until you give your full consent-</p><p>and the only thing newt can think about is:<br/>'for god's sake, shuck, don't make a mistake, don't you dare make a fucking mistake and hurt her' because you've never been touched so intimately before and he thinks he's already made enough mistakes in a lifetime than to make another one, especially in regards to you</p>
            </blockquote>





	a fever you can't sweat out

**Author's Note:**

> i am trash and here’s an unresolved tense sexual moment that’s probably calling for a part two. not full smut but sexual content is present and consider it in the same verse as the college AU fic young god of mine -- this might be a lil baby fic coming off from that mother fic
> 
> enjoy :^)

The day begins with you in a black tank top and sky blue shorts reaching for cereal in the top shelf. Just a little more--- you stood on your tippy toes and with your arm outstretched--  


“[Y/N], we all know how that’s going to end-”  


You squeak at the noise, swivel around and place a hand, wide-eyed, to your chest. Newt lingers at the doorway, smirking in all his loose singlet and camo pants glory. Your eyes trail along his arms and the shadows falling over his muscles in the kitchen sun-lighting, the dip of his collarbone and then down some, to the slim torso outlined finely by grey cloth… and then… god, after that talk with Brenda, Newt’s presence has begun to affect you more and more and it doesn’t help that his height over you kind of-- really, really affects you. You shift uncomfortably, knowing that your eyes are probably the most readable feature on your face that would give away your thoughts and you had no idea how to approach this. Quote Brenda, you’re a ‘fucking virgin’ (not in a degrading way of course-- Brenda's better than that, though to be completely honest you're not sure exactly in what way she meant that exclamation).  


But you forget that Newt is observant. The smug blond notes all of it. Despite the hasty spin you make, it’s too late. He refrains a grin at the blush he saw, heavy on your cheeks, and something inside him stirs that makes him want to corner you where you stood and... well, touch you. The feeling was new to him but hell it gave him a delicious rush he wanted to take advantage of.  


“Well, um,” you bite your lip and turn your head towards him slightly, hands on the counter, curled. “Care to help me out?” Oh, he’d  _ love _ to help you out.  


You miss the wolfish gaze as you breathe deeply and face forward. You miss the scene of Newt running his tongue over his bottom lip, and god, you felt  _ vulnerable _ for once. And-- your body gives a little jolt as a hand rests on your hip, and your boyfriend comes close behind you and you feel his chest brush lightly against your back as he retrieves the box of cereal for you. The warmth intoxicates you, your breath gets lost just by this, just by feeling the curves of him against you and  _ he doesn’t move _ .  


“N-newt?” you ask, the compromising position, which shouldn’t be as compromising as it feels, really, is distracting you. “M-mission accomplished y’know, we…”  


Involuntarily you melt into the nuzzle that sets your skin tingling. Newt wants to see how far he can take it. He places gentle kisses on the juncture between your shoulder and neck, and the affection dizzies you. The container sits innocently on the counter as Newt brings both his hands to rest on your hip bones, thumbs fiddling with the edges of your tank top before slipping beneath beneath then under, where they dip into the sides of your shorts. The attention he gives is now divided into the burning feather-light caresses on the skin of your hip bones and the brush of his lips against the patch behind your neck, where your spinal cord begins and–-  _ oh _ . Your back arches and the tone of your voice sends heat all through him; the instantaneous reaction turns him on so much it’s insane and the mixed intent he had earlier is overcome by the more lustful side.  


You tremble beneath him, back leaning into him and the teasing nibbling and sucking and somewhere during everything his name leaves your throat in a husky murmur and he pulls you into him, closer. You find the position unsatisfying, and in a quick second you turn around, meet his eyes, and kiss him. In that moment the dark brown takes your breath away, unfortunately for you as the kiss gets hungrier and rougher and keeping up with Newt becomes a challenge; you have to savour the breaths you can have. Wet and red are both your mouths when you part, but Newt doesn’t waste a second and returns to your neck and the erogenous spot he’d discovered, and you never took Newt as so full with fervour in his advances. The bite says otherwise, has you jerking and whimpering and Newt traps you against the counter in case your legs decide to give way, but a muffled groan escapes him too due to what he hears and what he feels, oh what he feels, and the way your hands have come up, both clutched desperately against his shoulders.  


“Newt,” you breathe, chest heaving, and you try to gather yourself, because this is a public place. “S-nm-someone’s going to come-” he catches your mouth again. You release a started gasp into his mouth as he splays his hands boldly across the back of your thighs and lifts you, uses the moment of surprise to move in between your spread legs before pulling them in close around his own hips. He knows he’s playing such a dangerous game, but he’s so aroused from your reactions he doesn’t want to stop. 

He rocks his hips and you don’t think you’re a very loud person, even though you do make noises when you’re surprised. This kind of pleasure though makes you inhale slowly, your breath hitching, but the moment his hands once again slide beneath your top you come to your senses again and your hands scramble to meet his. You hold them there. He looks at you, your brows furrow as your mind clears, lips parting, and you try to face his intense brown eyes - those pupils blown wide - with purpose. His mouth looks completely delectable and you know what he wants, the desire is clearly expressed with each press of your hips together. Despite it all, you’re very nervous and you’re not sure if it shows. God though, you want him too, you want to see him like this, like this with you, you just-- 

You breathe for a moment. Shortly, his arms relax and your fingers loop with his as your hands lower together. He takes a deep breath, leans forward and presses his head against your shoulder, squeezes your fingers once and says, “sorry, I-”

You release one of his hands, and card your fingers through his hair. Newt’s not sure if you realise it but while your actions offer him comfort, the urge to ravish you is still immensely present. You touching him feels so good and…

“Shit, shuck, shit, shit,” he curses beneath his breath, and of course you hear all of it; you just try to breath properly, and calm down, which is hard to do as you’re very aware of everything. “You’re too shucking adorable,” he mutters, sounding annoyed but you know better, and when he’s pulling away, your eyes lock and it’s a strangely heart-stopping second. He leans in again, and a rush of butterflies escapes you only to be muted with a flood of  _ something _ when he simply places a kiss on the mark he made on the back of your neck.  To be honest, he’s afraid of how the moment enveloped him, how it clouded him like that. He doesn’t want to make a mistake with you, doesn’t want you to look at him differently if any mistake were to be made.

Your morning dies down with him releasing you from your close proximity, looking incredibly sheepish but with something else deep in his eyes that somehow strangles both of you in the odd atmosphere, and he’s gone before you know it and you’re there on the counter gazing blankly at the cereal to your side.

You realise that you want Newt back here with you. Just his presence would be nice, nothing else.

Eating cereal together would be cool. Does he like cereal? You’ve never asked.

You realise another thing as you slowly slide down from the bench, flusteredly adjusting your shorts and considering going back to your room to get a change of clothing, something fresher than the all too warm cloth sticking to you.

You realise that  _ god, you’re screwed. _

And your mind spits out an inappropriate joke as you take a moment to shake yourself out of whatever haziness is still in your system:

_ ((hopefully)). _


End file.
